Death's Fate
by Admiral T. DeVanto
Summary: Death desires a match. What better match for death then fate itself? Mythology AU.


Everyone must meet death eventually. It was the fate of all living beings. The ties of life would unravel, or break away from the pressures of the world, and she would be there ready to cut them loose. She would send that soul on its way into the abyss, into his abode, and he would receive the spirits. To meet death, they had to go through her first. Death, eventually, claimed everything. If it lived and breathed and possessed a heartbeat, then he would claim it. Eventually.

Yet she did not have a heartbeat. She had no heart to cease beating. But she was here, in the Underworld. She could not figure out for the life of her why he had all of the sudden decided that she now belonged down here with him. She was rather put out that she was so rudely dragged around and confined to a space. Actually, she was not really confined, for even the god of death couldn't imprison Fate.

"I grow tired of your charades, Lelouch," she called out into the darkness. "You have kept me waiting here for three days and I have grown bored."

From the darkness materialized a being as old as the earth. Amethyst eyes pierced from the void, a smirk dancing on his lips as death itself walked towards her. "Ruling the Underworld is no easy task. Besides, I had ensured that you weren't alone."

C.C huffed. "Your shades are hardly pleasant company." She stared up at him, unperturbed by his presence. If anything, it should be him who regarded her with awe. But there was no reverence in his gaze, only an emotion that C.C dare not assume he felt towards her. "Besides, I would prefer that you and I spend some time together to sort this out." She poked him. "You did, after all, rudely summon me here."

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "And yet, you had accepted my summons. I consider that an accomplishment." Unbeknownst to her, before she had even arrived, he had considered opening up the earth and galloping out in his chariot to seize her. But he knew that would not work. She would have stabbed him with those sharp shears she wielded. As dramatic as it would have been, and he did have a flare for the dramatics, whisking her off like a fair maiden or a helpless nymph would be ineffective. He would have to play this carefully.

She was cruel. Unlike her sisters from the Order, she was the cruelest one. She cut off life, ending one's existence with a simple snip of her shears. No one adored the Order. At first sight of the mark on her forehead, they identified her as Atropos, an inevitable outcome that lead to death.

Some may have considered her cruel, but he thought of her as astonishing.

A perfect match for him.

She gazed up at him with her cold amber eyes, as cold as his caverns. He reached out to pull her close, and she complied with a single step forward, still staring up at him with an unreadable gaze. Her hand came up to rest on his chest, her pink lips twitching either in amusement or displeasure. It must have been displeasure, for she sighed with boredom and turned away with her back to him. "Has the god of death grown bored and decided to poke fun at the fates?"

His hesitation was only for a moment, and he drew closer to her until he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close. He rested his head on her shoulder and he felt her lean into his touch. He smiled. After centuries of this constant dance, of denial and pursuit, they were finally working together, acknowledging what remained unspoken between them.

Did she not breathe? As he held her in his arms, he felt her warm breath tickle his neck. A shiver went down his spine, and he slowly ran his fingers through her hair, savoring the soft tresses.

Yes, she breathed.

The heart that she claimed to never possess beat within her, slowly, steady, an instrument following the beat of its own song. Pressed up against him, he could feel it, hear its wondrous call. What he enjoyed the most was increasing its tempo, hearing it stutter and quicken, growing louder and louder with his presence alone.

His lips brushed against her shoulders, his fingers now entangled in her hair, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. He could hear how her heartbeat quickened, and he smiled knowingly.

Yes, she had a heart.

If she breathed and had a heart, then he was destined to claim her.

"You are my fate," he murmured in her ear.

She stiffened, and she pushed him away with a frown. "You don't want me as yours."

Not as his fate. But as his. Simply and purely his. "Yes, I do." He grabbed her arms, unwilling to let her go, but she showed no interest in moving away. She also showed no interest in moving closer. Simple flirtations and advances did not phase her. She had been around long enough to know how the game worked and to remain unphased by it. She could most likely play him, leaving him breathless and ill informed.

Her heart quickened against her ribs, and his amethyst eyes twinkled as he grinned. "Is that a heartbeat I detect?"

She matched his grin with her own, placing her hand on his chest. "Perhaps." She could feel his heart quicken, matching hers.

"Then I want it."

"My heart?"

"Is that not clear?"

"You are a young one, I can tell, and you do not comprehend what you are after. I thought you would have realized this by now. It was cute the first century, but now," she cocked her head with a cold smile, "now the gods laugh at you for your foolish pursuit."

She was faced with sudden darkness as he stepped back into the shadows of his kingdom. She lost sight of him; his warmth gone. "Hiding again, Lelouch?" she teased. Yet she could not deny that she had admired him from afar, even dared to covet him. She had hidden away her yearnings, restraining herself from acting on them. She could practice self-control, even as she burned with a seething jealousy she thought long beneath her when any of the other nymphs or air-headed goddesses gushed about his dark beauty.

Speaking of which...

She hummed in the darkness, a smile teasing her lips. "Wouldn't the god of death want someone a bit more...shall I say, bright? I hear spring is a lovely essence."

A chuckle rang from the shadows. C.C cocked her head in the direction, her amber eyes falling on the slightest movement. She knew she could not track him with her eyes, but she could still sense his presence. Really, did this _boy _think he could best someone like her with her thousands of years' worth of experience? It was laughable.

"Shirley is sweet," he confessed. The wind stirred with his voice, despite the fact that they were deep within a cavern when he mentioned the goddess of Spring. "However, I do not think that she is a good match for me. Life and death are too much of an opposite component to coexist."

She felt his presence move up from behind, yet she did not turn around. The heat of his body caused goosebumps to travel down her bare arms. She felt something light touch her exposed shoulder. She did not flinch when she registered that it was his fingers gently touching her. His touch both burned her skin and sent icy shivers within her.

Something soft tickled her cheek, and she blinked, realizing that he was leaning in so close that his hair was brushing up against her.

"Besides," he whispered in her ear. "I think fate and death are a better match, don't you think."

Her humor was gone, and she was frowning now. "You are toying with fate," she warned.

He moved around, and now she was looking up at him. He took a step closer until they were only a few inches apart. She looked up and saw how his eyes smoldered into hers, but she remained unfazed at their inferno. She had seen many gods of equal beauty, and some mortals even. There was nothing different about this dark one.

He looked as if he wanted to touch her again, but he merely leaned in closer, coyly smirking. "But I think that it is merely the _fate _of everyone to meet death."

Had the god of death merely grown bored? Of course, she had taken an occasional peek at the cavern the souls traveled through, and it was there that she would catch a glimpse of him. She could not deny that she was curious about him.

"An arrogant implication," she intoned. "Are you suggesting that it is my _fate _to be with you?"

His smile slipped, and his eyes dimmed as he straightened up. "I do not control fate. Its complicated matters are too intrinsic to be disturbed."

"Flowery words," she commented.

"Furthermore," he continued. "I admire the persistence of fate. Nothing stands in its way. Whatever fate wants, she will not be denied."

C.C raised an eyebrow. "_She_?"

He blinked. "Ah, I misspoke. It. Whatever fate wants, _it _will not be denied its desires."

No. He had not misspoken. Fate always claimed what belonged to _her_. Everything bowed to the fates. To think that anyone assumed they could deny her of what she desired was the greatest of insults to her power.

His hand came up to lightly brush against her cheek. "The earth has stained your face. Come. I know a place where we can tend to that blemish."

The 'blemish' as he had so eloquently commented, was a mere smudge of dirt she had received when she was with her sisters, before Lelouch had asked for her to visit. Leading her to one of the fountains in his courtyard, he guided her to sit next to him along the edge of the fountain. He dabbed at her cheek with a damp cloth. She stared, unblinking as her bangs were swept to the side, and only then did he pause when the mark on her forehead was revealed. His hand drifted away, but she caught it and guided his touch closer. He met her gaze, surprised at her sudden openness.

"My birthright," she said, guiding his hand to touch her forehead. "And my curse."

Lelouch hesitated, aware of the honor and intimacy this level of trust implied. He traced the symbol of her forehead, his touch gentle and soothing. She stared up at him, her face expressionless. His gaze was thoughtful, as if the ordinary symbol of the Order was more fascinating than the diamonds adorning his halls.

"And where," she spoke, feeling his finger linger on the sloping end of her marking, "is yours?" She smirked. "Or do you not wish to share?" She knew other gods and goddesses had their markings in less...appropriate places. Shamna was one example of a poorly placed mark.

However, Lelouch only grinned, a sly shine sparking in his eyes. His hands fell away from her face. She watched as he slowly removed his cravat and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, exposing his chest. C.C, with an air of disinterest, did not focus on the perfectly toned specimen before her, and instead, turned her gaze onto the symbol of the Order.

She traced the symbol, slower than he did, and meticulous. She sat closer, so close that their hips were touching. She leaned over him that if she were to look up, she would only be inches away from his face.

Her hand drifted for just a bit, straying from the red mark and touching his collarbone. A shiver went through his body, as if caught off guard.

She smirked. It seemed that this young boy was eager to play, and he was pretty good at it, but he just was not used to being _played. _Her finger drifted down a bit lower, teasingly and enticing.

No one denied fate anything. Least of all, fate itself. She knew what she wanted.

"Say it," she said, her honey eyes boring into his. "Say my name."

He swallowed, his body locked in an effort to control himself, to contain the desire to rush towards her, gather her in his arms and run his fingers through her long silk hair.

He was amazed that he managed to compose himself so much. "Aisa," he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered closed, as if she had tasted something sweet and precious. She smiled, savoring the sound of her name passing through his lips.

"Again," she breathed, opening her eyes and focusing her sudden and intense stare on him. "Say it again."

He would. He would say it again and again, for to learn her name was a greater treasure than all of his vaults filled with gems and gold. "Aisa," he said. "Aisa-"

He broke off as she moved forward, catching his lips with hers, tasting her name as it lingered between them. She grabbed his shoulders, pulling him close. His arms found their way around her waist, their bodies fused together. Her hands left his shoulders to touch his hair, her fingers entangled in his raven locks.

She broke away, but only for a fraction of a second to breathe out a name. "Hades."

A shiver traveled through his body at his name, and he silenced her once more with a kiss. "I like toying with fate," he murmured, kissing her cheek, his breath tickling her ear.

He felt her body vibrate at her breathless laughter. She tugged him closer, yet teasingly placed a hand on his chest. With surprising force, she shoved him back against the pillar of the fountain, her body pressed to his. "Boy, you don't know how I play."


End file.
